


Resolutions

by doctor__idiot



Series: 12 Days of Wincestmas 2017 [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, First Kiss, M/M, New Year's Eve, Pre-Series, Stanford Era, prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-02-26 09:14:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13232661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctor__idiot/pseuds/doctor__idiot
Summary: For once in his life, Dean stays.





	Resolutions

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt: "I've missed this."

“I’ve missed this,” Dean says after another sip of his beer and it’s the first thing he’s said in a while.

The admission is somewhat unexpected, momentarily throwing Sam for a loop until he hurries on, “Me too.”

To be honest, he didn’t think Dean would show up at all. It’s not like Christmas has ever been particularly traditional in the Winchester household. But what is even more surprising is the fact that Dean stayed for New Year’s. In twenty years, Sam hasn’t known him to be someone who is capable of staying in place for longer than a few days without a hunt to focus on.

So it’s all the more surprising that Dean not only stayed but seems entirely at ease in Sam’s dorm room without any restless energy making him fidgety. He’s got his legs crossed on top of Sam’s rickety coffee table that’s made from an upturned wooden box and he looks almost too relaxed with his beer bottle held loosely between his fingers.

Sam is still waiting for the other shoe to drop after two years of radio silence from both his father and his brother. Sam never expected to hear from his dad and he doesn’t mourn the loss much. But with Dean it’s like he had to leave a part of himself behind and he has been aching since. Phantom limb syndrome.

He is angry with himself that he wasn’t the first one to make the move, that even now he still can’t relax completely because he is too scared that Dean is going to slip through his fingers again. As much of a paradox as it might be, with Sam being the one who left the family to be on his own, Dean has always been the fickle one. Sam always wanted nothing more than to _stay_.

And god, he wants Dean to stay this time. It’s burning him from the inside that it’s not going to last.

“Penny for your thoughts,” his brother says, picking at the label on his beer bottle, and Sam sighs. Shakes his head.

“I remember the fireworks we did on July 4th.”

It’s a non-sequitur but Dean doesn’t need an explanation to catch on.

“Out in the field in Nebraska? Yeah.” He chuckles. “Sammy’s first fireworks. Dad would’a killed me if he’d found out but you were so excited.”

Sam smiles at him past the neck of his own bottle. “Still like ‘em.”

“Some going on in town?”

Sam shrugs. “I guess.”

“You wanna go out and watch? Still got a few minutes.”

Dean is already halfway off the couch by the time Sam grabs his elbow to halt him. He shakes his head, take a gulp of his beer. Dean sinks back, eyes on Sam. All of a sudden, Sam feels scrutinized.

“I’m good,” he says, “Really. This is nice.”

“Nice, huh?” Dean’s raised eyebrow is mocking him but Sam doesn’t care. Not with the pleasant buzz he’s got going on and with his big brother who’s two years older than the last time he saw him sitting next to him in his dark dorm room. Not when he’s got everything he could ask for right there.

He shrugs, leans back into the cushion. He chugs the rest of the beer.

“Slow down there, cowboy.”

Sam turns his head, grinning at his smirking brother. “Should’a bought champagne.”

Dean’s nose crinkles. “You like champagne now?”

Sam laughs, “Hell, no,” making Dean chuckle along with him and maybe Sam is a bit out of practice with the whole alcohol thing because he’s barely had two beers and he’s definitely feeling them. _Lightweight_ , he can hear Dean call him in his head.

He is startled by the first fireworks going off outside. His gaze jumps to the clock on the wall that is signaling the beginning of the new year, the pointers coming together over the number 12.

Dean nudges him from his side of the couch. “It’s midnight.”

On autopilot, Sam clinks his empty bottle against Dean’s. “Yeah,” he says. Dean is looking at him and it’s somewhat unnerving. The air in the room tastes stuffy and Sam makes to get up and open a window.

“Hey, Sam,” Dean starts, head tilted back against the couch, “Shame we don’t have anyone to kiss, huh?”

Sam’s first impulse is to burst out laughing because of course that’s what Dean would be thinking about. Scoring on New Year’s. But Dean isn’t even smiling. It’s dark but his eyes are clearly fixed on Sam and maybe it’s Sam’s imagination but the glint in them looks suspiciously like a challenge.

“Yeah,” Sam says, “Shame.”

He leans over, supporting himself with one hand on his brother’s thigh, and gets close. “Happy new year, Dean,” he whispers and places a kiss on the corner of Dean’s mouth. He lingers just a bit too long and Dean has time to slide his hand, damp with perspiration from the chilled beer bottle, into Sam’s hair and turn his head just that little bit that allows for their mouths to slot together briefly.

“Happy new year, little brother.”


End file.
